
Class ' r\)3 5^/ 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 



Fate and I 

And Other Poems 



This Edition, Signed by the Author, 

IS Limited 

To Two Hundred and Fifty Numbered Copies 

OF WHICH THIS IS 

^tmhzv 



FATE AND I 

AND OTHER POEMS 

By 

Gerda Dalliba 










THE GRAFTON PRESS 
NEW YORK 



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OONGRCGS, 

Two Cocizs Riai«flVSD 

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OtASe Q-^XXe No. 

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COPY B, 



COPYRIGHT, 1902 
BY 

THE GRAFTON PRESS 



) - 



t ^ TO 

MY FRIEND 

MRS. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME 

IS GRATEFULLY 

DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 




Fate and I 


Page 
II 


Strength 
Sorrow 


12 

14 


Love 


15 


To Keats — A Sonnet 


16 


Rain 


17 


A Sea Myth 
Rondeau Redouble 


18 

35 


Villanelie 


37 


A Prayer to Orithyia 

On the Death Mask of a Poet 


38 

40 


A Night in the Michigan Wild 

"Yesterday and To-morrow Morn" 

A Feeling 

Would'st Thou Speak to Me, Bright Day? 

Woman 


41 

47 
49 
50 
51 


A Secret — A Sonnet 


52 


Fall 

A Mood 


53 
55 


A Sonnet 


56 


A Ballad 


57 


The Moon and the World 


70 


A Child— A Tale in Rhyme 


72 



Fate and I 

OH, you and I, Fate, are two gods, I trow! 
You, god of the future, and I, of now. 
I watch to-night, with a fair delight, 
Over the mountains the waning light. 
Yet, when the day-beams stronger grow. 
It is you, yourself, who may lay me low ! 

Oh, you and I, Fate, are two gods, two kings ! 
And Life is the spoil for which each flings 
The royal strain of his purple blood — 
Like in a wood, a panting flood 
O'er the wild woodlands leaps its way — 
I with to-night, and you with to-day ! 

And yet, as I watch in the spring sky warm 
The brooding heat of a thunder storm. 
Nor ever fear t'will not disappear: 
So I hold you calmly, though close and near ! 
And, as deep mosses within a stream. 
To-night I lie by myself — and dream. 



II 



Strength 

WE cannot all be noble, Yet I ween, 
We all can have the strength that 
Atlas bore, 
And hold the Earth securely on our arm. 
They cry to me : " God's will be done," — they 
Of little strength, but of tremendous faith. 
And with lips clenched to bleeding, I reply: 
" God's will be done." 

Yet I have little faith : 
It seems to me, the tide has moments when 
It palpitates between the silver sands 
And the deep bodied bosom of the sea. 
So palpitates the soul 'tween life and death. 
We die more often than we think. Upon 
Each passion we are laid a limped corpse ; 
And are reborn to Earth alone in Thought ; 
And strength grows in us as the ruddy will 
Keeps emotions back from outward show, 
Pulls a smile across the face — and says : 
" I'm happy ! See, I'm smiling ! I can take 
Thy care unto me, as a summer plant 
Absorbs the moisture from the atmosphere. 



12 



My heart a canvas is: take thou and paint 
In thine own shade. My soul's a viol : play 
Thy music out upon me, and rejoice ! 
Vm strong — for what I feel thou shalt not know.' 



13 



Sorrow 



I 



SAW a woman bend her head 
Over a grave beneath a tree. 
Woman, I know thy love is dead ! 
But still my love is dead to me. 



I saw her lift a small white hand, 
And pass it slow across her eye. 

Woman — I know— I understand — 

Yet mourn we most for those who die ? 

I saw her fix with tender care 

Flowers, with fragrance resting deep. 

Woman — there are no flowers there 
Where my love lies, and fell to sleep ! 

And suddenly I saw and heard 

A red-breast robin come that way. 

And — Oh my God ! There is no bird. 
Where rests my love, to wake the day ! 

Ah ! woman, can'st thou ever know, 
'Mid memories and grasses tall. 

That in my heart my love did grow 
Alone — and died there ? That is all ! 



H 



Love 

OVE was born of a thought, and a passion, 
Down in the Heart-world, far away ; 
Beneath the sweep of the Earth and 
Ocean — 
Beating upon it night and day ! 

Beneath the sky, where God's hand trembled 

Dragging the planets into place. 
Beneath the court, where Heaven assembled. 

Seraph and Saint to see its face. 

And all the universe coming in terror 
Gazed upon it — but named it good. 

God baptized it, and freed it from error. 
Giving its charge unto maidenhood. 



»5 



To Keats — A Sonnet 

I THOUGHT, in the vast shade of yonder 
tree, 
Endymion lay, upon his floweret bed — 
As o'er the darkening meadow and the sea 
The young moon rose triumphant overhead. 
And then you came, Keats, came straight unto me. 
With all your sweet perplexity of tone — 
Of what in dreamland distant far might be. 
And what upon this earth was felt and known. 
I wonder if you find now what you sought. 
And languished for, and found not and so died ? 
No grand philosophy of deed, or thought, 
Was yours — Your ideals were the ones that hide 
Behind the clouds — the romances God wrought. 
To set within the spheres where saints abide ! 



i6 



Rain 

THERE are tear-drops on the window pane! 
Who is weeping ? Heaven — 
What from thee can be withheld ? 
What grief unto thee given ? 



17 



A Sea Myth 



TO 

AH, many a song has been tuned to the harp, 
y~\_ With network of silvery rhyme. 

Through the modulations of flat and sharp. 

You may hear the heart-beat of time. 
Ah, many a poet has dared to part. 

The rose from its Southern clime. 
And place an icicle next its heart. 

In singing a song sublime. 
And though the Sea has been lost in its foam, 

I dare to sing of the Sea — 
And then my fancy wandering home. 

Has brought back my verse to thee. 

I 

Under Euboea's isle. 
Under Jupiter's smile. 
Under the Earth — God*s wile, 
Making triumph and trial. 

The home of Neptune rests in turbulent seas. 
The waves beat on the shore 
Of Earth that Heaven bore 
Upon its breast of yore. 

Yet knoweth not of Ocean's mysteries. 

i8 



II 

Waves are foamed in white 

On a summer's night ; 
They mould themselves in shapes of young half 
moons. 

Before the Sun departed 

And Earth was broken-hearted, 
It shone there with full glory at its noons. 

Ill 

Yet the deep of green 
That is seldom seen 
Lies laced in between, 

The surface Sea, and its endless, fathomless bed. 
And there the mermaids fair. 
With floating sea-swept hair. 

Still lull the drowned with songs that please the 
dead. 

IV 
Under the Earth and Sky, 
Under fair Greece's eye. 
Homes of the Sea-Gods lie. 

As oft in times of Greek supremacy olden. 
In under the white foam's breast, 
In under the green lights pressed. 
Where the surge has sunk to rest, 

In under Euboea, Neptune's palace is golden. 



V 

Golden palaces, 

Golden lattices, 

Golden trellices. 
And yet, a golden throne for Neptune's seat. 

With golden courts below 

Where mystic mermaids show 
All of their woman part, with beauty sweet. 

VI 

Golden chairs for queens, 

Nymphs of stately miens. 
Upon whose faces fair the monarch looks. 

With Spirit-Solitudes 

There stolen from their woods 
And from their distant rivers, lakes, and brooks. 

VII 

Lights that tinted strange. 

With an opal's range 
Of colors, habitate the watery way. 

And yet they are the sprites 

That ship-men see by nights, 
And they who sleep, and find their rest by day. 



VIII 

Mosses deep, unseen, 

Old, and yet as green 
As verdant meadows under soft spring skies. 

And some like yellow grains. 

Where the young harvest reigns 
In tinted orange and in golden dyes. 

IX 

Shells with voices sent 
From the reeds that blent 
Pan to merriment, 

As when from out the woods he laughing ran ; 
And yet, with pensive strain. 
Where wilful nymphs complain — 
And of a great love-pain 

Born to creation, when the v/orld began. 

X 

Phosphorescent plants, 

Clammy cold sea-damps. 
And all the pungent life that Nature breeds 

Where men can never know. 

And where the poets go 
Alone when thitherward a soft dream leads. 

21 



XI 

Gorgons with icy glance 

Frozen within a trance 
To motionless inertion doomed to stand 

Like now, on sea-shore capes. 

The snow is piled in shapes 
Of livid monsters, by the Ice King's hand. 

XII 

Sirens, singing sweet 

Melodies, full meet 
For lover's bowers, under fair moon-beam ; 

And yet whose perfumed breath 

From roseate lips means death 
To those who listen to their song — and dream. 

XIII 

Harpies, woman-eyed. 

Looking wan and wide. 

Yet forever tied 
To foul bird-bodies, claw, and flapping wing — 

And every creature there, 

Both horrible and fair. 

That the deep waters bear 
Where they upon the Seashore's bosom fling. 



XIV 

In the spacious hall 

Where the shades would fall 

Covering over all — 
If haply the warm Sun were there to die — 

Bright-blue lights from the wave 

Had colored all the cave 
Where Proteus and Triton sat on high. 

XV 

Poloyphemus — wide, 

Heavy, tired-eyed — 

Sat by Glaucus' side 
While they held converse there somewhat apart; 

When suddenly there came 

A flash of greenish flame 
That lit the cave and shivered every heart. 

XVI 

Amphitrite the pure 

Hung her head demure 
On Neptune's knee, and trembled with affright; 

For it was Circe there, 

But her wild look was fair, 
For she had banished Scylla, the past night. 

23 



XVII 

Now the afternoon 

Lulled the cave with droon 
Of heavy waves that roared on and on, 

When Neptune rose with state, 

And for his bridal-mate 
Took from the deep a regal sapphire crown; 

XVIII 

Placing the shimmering band. 

With his feeble hand, 
Upon her head, while crimson was her face ; 

And every eye was cast 

And fixed firm and fast 
Upon the wonder of her perfect grace. 

XIX 

Sea-Gods standing there 
Felt their wild hearts stir 
Gazing straight at her. 

Who long ago had come from out the West, 
When Neptune's monarchy 
Had threatened all the Sea — 
Not yielding quietly 

Unto his sway upon the waters pressed. 

24 



XX 

For in Cronus' reign, 

Ere the Gods were slain, 
By Neptune — Pluto — Jupiter — the three 

Great sons who stole away 

Their Father's — Cronus' — sway, 
Oceanus ruled all the boundless Sea. 

XXI 

Oceanus old. 

Hoary Tethys cold, 

Pontus there, the bold, 
Then dwelt beyond the bound'ries of the Earth 

Within a western cave. 

And felt a tidal wave 

Upon their Kingdom lave 
Of the old Dynasty, with Neptune's birth. 

XXII 
Nereus there wed — 
Though on a sea-bed — 
Doris, a nymph, who bred 

Fifty fair daughters to the dying race ; 
And one was as a dream. 
With golden hair a-stream. 
And soft, fair eyes a-beam — 

And the new East-God gazed upon her face. 

*5 



XXIII 

For upon a day, 

Now long passed away, 

Winds and waves astray 

Swept o'er the land that kills the setting Sun. 
And where the nights are found 
And on the drear Earth bound, 
There rose a battle sound 

Of Neptune's arms, and the old reign was done. 

XXIV 

Far from out the East, 

Like a frenzied beast. 
The monarch Neptune rode full wrathfully, 

With dolphins golden-maned 

And iron-hoofed, and trained 
To bear the royal chariot o'er the Sea ; 

XXV 

While the Earth upreared 
Forest-locks, and feared 
For her far lands that neared 

The bound'ries of her furthest western coasts: 
For with vast Time, that goes, 
New Gods will rise — and rose, 
And fierce with battle throes 

Upon the old, who seemed like withered ghosts. 
26 



XXVI 

And the myriad throng 

Pass like notes along 

In Progression's song, 
Sung through the age-chords, and by parting life. 

Each God with his libation 

The rise of each new nation. 

Each man (a whole creation) 
That born — gives birth and dies within the strife. 
XXVII 

On that day now set 

In the amulet 
Of the dead past, Neptune had fought the throne 

Of the old Dynasty 

For the supremacy 

Across the boundless sea, 
And then proclaimed both East and West his own. 
XXVIII 

On the last blue line 

Of the western brine. 

Marked straight and fine. 
There rose a low cry as of agony. 

For while the old Gods fought 

They still were overwrought 

By the vast strength and thought 
Of Neptune of the Younger Dynasty. 
27 



XXIX 

By Neptune's trident hand 
Unyielding Fate did stand, 
With a firm command 

Upon her lips, and new thought in her eyes ; 
And perchance the old Gods saw 
That they must now withdraw. 
Or only felt the law 

Of withered flesh upon their cheeks and thighs. 

XXX 

But the victor — he 
Paused suddenly — 

A daughter of Nereus old stood there ; 

'Twas she who was the dream, 
With her fair eyes a-beam 
And her gold hair a-stream, 

And mosses caught upon her shoulders bare. 

XXXI 

From his chariot far 

Like a shooting star 
Descended he to where dull waters rise. 

And dripping from the foam 

He raised her — bore her home — 
The starlight playing in his wayward eyes. 

28 



XXXII 

Now, the afternoon 
Lulled the cave with droon 

Of heavy waves and blue and emerald light ; 
And the long years had sped 
Fast o'er their bridal-bed ; 

And waved the shadows of each happy night, 

XXXIII 

Since upon that day, 

Now long passed away, 

Winds and waves astray 
Swept o*er the land that kills the setting Sun ; 

And he the old Gods fought, 

And them had overwrought, 
And his own prize, fair Amphitrite, had won 

XXXIV 
While the sapphire crown 
Brilliancy shot down 

Of long blue shadows on the fair girl's form, 
And Juno's peacock dyes 
Still glistened from her eyes, 

And on her cheeks swift raged the crimson storm. 



29 



XXXV 

Now, where fields are held, 
And the forests felled 

Clean by the axe, and small birds winged to nest, 
Sang out a sunset bell. 
And the wild shadows fell 
With the fond Sun's farewell ; 

And all the meadow-workers sought their rest. 

XXXVI 

Underneath the lands 

Where Euboea stands. 
The dew-time fell, but with no outward show. 

And there waves resonant. 

And green and blue and constant. 
Still beat with steady, wailing, ceaseless flow 

XXXVII 
Then with the dying day, 
Sea-Gods stole away — 
The River-Gods, and Nymphs of Fountains — 
Naiads, 

To depths below, above — 
Sang sweet unto her love 
Fair Amphitrite, beneath the rising Pleiads. 

30 



;^ong of Stmpbitrite to l^cptiine. 
" I am the growing-one 
Born of the Flowing-One ; 
Over the glowing-one 
I sweep my long hair. 
In the East tremblingly. 
Faltering and musically. 
With low head bendingly, 
I kiss Neptune there. 

« Born in the western cave, 
Deep, I my bosom lave 
Deep in the briny wave. 
To make it gleam white. 
I command the waves' roaring. 
The large Sea-gulls' soaring-— 
But all this ignoring, 
I bend to thy sight. 

" The mystic revealing 
Of infinite feeling 
Upon me is stealing, 
Oh Neptune! Oh King! 
The wild ruby's burning 
To dull red is turning. 
Beside the all-yearning. 
That I to thee bring. 

3» 



" The unsteady motion 
Of old Father Ocean 
Bringeth no notion- 
Of glory — of space. 
Upon thy heart lying. 
Upon thy lips sighing, 
Oh Neptune ! and dying, 
I bury my face ! " 

XXXVIII 

Far, as in a dream, 

O'er sea and lake and stream 

The moon rose ; over town and lane and field ; 
And unto babes new-born, — 
Old people, tired, worn, — 

A soft beneficence its rays did yield. 

XXXIX 

But below — below — 

Where the waters flow. 

With their ripples slow. 
In silver on the dark heart of the deep, 

Pure Amphitrite's fair charm 

Lay on the hoary arm 
Of her King Neptune, who did soundly sleep. 

32 



XL 

High within a tower 

Swung the midnight hour 
From ofF a church-clock on village green ; 

And far into the night, 

As souls in search of light, 
The steeples in the sky did rise and lean. 

XLI 

But, Oh the briny foam 

And crested wave, where roam 
The tossed wrecks of broken ships once sailed 1 

The North wind reaching far 

To South, from polar star. 
Upon th' infinite breast of Ocean wailed. 

XLII 

In the spacious cave, 

Underneath the wave. 
The anxious Sea-Queen turned from side to side, 

Fair Amphitrite, the pure. 

And what hath woke thee ? " Sure 
Thy monarch sleepeth well beneath the tide.*' 



33 



XLIII 

Tears fell from her face — 
What a fair, wondrous grace 

There is in weeping! Quiet lay he there, 
While o'er his wayward beard, 
And long, and strong, and seared. 

Her sweet lips fell, and on his brow and hair. 

XLIV 

On the bounteous Earth 

Fair Morn had her birth 
In regal splendor of a Sun's fresh grace, 

That in the sky was bound. 

Upon the Earth was found 
The dew, and light upon the mountains' face. 

XLV 

But under the Sea 

Lay a stern mystery — 
The monarch there raised not his lordly head. 

Upon his body prone 

Lay Amphitrite alone — 
She wept her love — her Neptune — who was dead. 



34 



Rondeau Redouble 

THERE is no strong yet unfulfilled desire, 
Thought is the Slave of Mind, and 
Dream of Soul, 
The Heart is master of its burning fire. 
And these three monarchs have supreme 
control. 

Within all spheres there is no mystic goal 
To which sane complex Thought cannot 
aspire — 

All Ages unto progress hand their scroll : 
There is no strong yet unfulfilled desire. 

Sweet Dream need use no artifice t' attire 
Drear Life in beauteous garb. Her aureole 

Will lend the pale face a celestial fire — 
Thought is the Slave of Mind, and Dream 
of Soul. 

The emotional Heart, it is still great and 
whole; 
Its own musician, it can wake the lyre 
Of yearning, where the mighty tone- waves 
roll,— 
The Heart is master of its burning fire. 

35 



The Heart, the Mind, the Soul, they are entire 
Rulers of joy. The Heart, the Mind, the 
Soul ; 
For they shall ever reach toward something 
higher : 
And these three monarchs have supreme 
control. 

And they were monarchs when the body stole 

Into existence, and did strength acquire. 
And they are monarchs when the grand bells 
toll 
A lingering farewell o'er the funeral pyre. 
They have no unfulfilled desire. 



36 



Villanelle 



u 



PON my heart my lady lies, 
Her hair is blown across my cheek, 
And blinded are my tearless eyes. 



Oh God ! a voice within me cries, 

My sinking breast has grown but weak ; 

Upon my heart my lady lies ! 

Vain are all prayers, and wishing sighs, 
" Her hair forbids my lips to speak." 
And blinded are my tearless eyes. 

The strong resistance in me dies. 
Before her face my soul is meek — 
Upon my heart my lady lies. 

Her mouth that burns upon me tries 

My love to agony to pique, 

And blinded are my tearless eyes. 

Dear rhapsody of rhapsodies, 
Dear Heaven that I dared not seek, 
Upon my heart my lady lies, 
\nd blinded are my tearless eyes ! 



37 



A Prayer to Orithyia 

{J Ballad) 

TIS Aquilo in the tree, 
Beauteous maiden list and hear ! 
For he doth sing heart feelingly 
To a fair one he loves dear. 
Beauteous maiden lend an ear 
To his wild love's northern strain, 
Grave, impassioned, and austere; 
Full of anger, full of pain ! 

Hear the wild blast : it is he ! 
Feel the snowflake : 'tis his tear! 
'Tis his yearning strife for thee. 
At the tempest have no fear, 
'Tis thy lover's wooing, dear : 
Madness he cannot restrain — 
Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
Full of anger, full of pain ! 

Orithyia, glorious is his plea, 
Decked in language harsh and drear, 
And not fit the garb to be 
Of his love, at least sincere. 
In an iceberg atmosphere 
Grows a powerful hurricane — 
Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
Full of anger, full of pain ! 

38 



Emotion, nymph, thou can'st revere, 
Though return not, nor retain : 
Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
Full of anger, full of pain I 



39 



On the Death Mask of a Poet 

FEATURES dead with mouth forever 
Silent as a frozen river. 
Lips that never wake, nor quiver — 
Never more with life's light, never. 

Sunken cheek, and brow projecting, 
O'er the great Mind's heart, reflecting 
On the future, and expecting 
Death which now upon it lies ! 
Lips where unrepressed Desire 
Built herself an altar-fire. 
Rising ever higher — higher — 
Only satiate with the skies ! 

Straight and aquiline and slender 
Nostrils that revibrate — tender — 
All the fine emotions render. 
That pass in and through the Soul. 
Chin, that if the dead were risen, 
Would denote a large precision. 
Which would conquer world or vision 
Through the vastness of control. 

Eye-brows great and massive, lying 
On the forehead. Eye-balls trying 
To express the bosom's sighing. 
When the poet suffered dying. 

40 



A Night in the Michigan Wild 

HID within the deep wood of a Michigan 
wild 
I have seen a small river couched down 

like a child 
At the foot of great pine trees which, stretching 

above, 
Pay the sky, as the river prays them, for its love. 
And upon that small river bank, winding and 

bending 
Amid pine trees, and fir trees, and beech never 

ending. 
The wild roses are clustered, and sunbeams are 

too. 
And the shadows of night fall majestically 

through 
The joined branches, and touch it ! Ah wait ! 

Let me try 
To describe that weird scene, where the North 

beauties lie. 

Here the dome of the heavens is deeper and 

clearer, 
And yet, even the grey of the dull days bends 

nearer 

41 



The world here, than within the soft tropical 

South ; 
And still further away at the wide river's mouth 
The North skies and the waters have met, and 

the still 
Of their passion-embrace is not broken, until 
The fond wind has at last found the long finger 

tips 
Of the trees and then presses them with its 

moist lips. 
And still looking to landward, the far rugged 

haze 
Of the higher hills rises upon one's rapt gaze. 
That will shroud with the veil of the soft morn- 
ing mist 
All the bright inland lakes at their feet, and will 

list 
To the break of their waters upon their own 

brink, 
While wild roses grow redder and redder, and 

sink 
'Neath the blushing within their calm, fair river 

glass 
At the beauty they see in themselves. But 
alas ! 



42 



That the ferns must be hid in their close and 

wild wood, 
Which alone for the past generations have stood 
All unseen in their hermit-like silence, austere 
And unchanged in the Spring and the cold dying 

year. 

A dull, dark night had come to the river, as fast 
As if one might be watching a round sun full 

past 
Its burnt horizon waning, and ah ! one might 

feel 
One had entered the heart of all nature's ideal ! 
While adown the stream's current, a bark-boat 

was drifting 
Slow, because the monotonous sound of uplifting 
And the dropping of oars on the surface was 

still, 
And the tide of the river bore it, by Its will, 
On and on, to the great Lake Superior — where 
It still mingles with waters so deep from the air, 
That one hardly can feel their immensity, while 
In their calm on the shore they may ripple and 

smile. 
And yet slow, slow, but constantly moving along, 



43 



The bark-boat and the strong tide were drifting 

with song 
Of the evening — to where hid away in the deep 
Of the distance and dark, the great lake lay 

asleep. 

Now the woods, even pine trees, and fir trees, 

seemed more 
Rich and luminous far, on the great waters* 

shore — 
And one dreaded, yet longed for that darkness 

and gloom, 
As the soul of man dreads and yet longs for 

the tomb. 
The prow was straight set, and the roses and light 
Of the evening far back were forgotten in night — 
Yet the girl in the boat, with her finely poised ear, 
Tho' her soul was far sent into dreamland, 

could hear 
A wild music — for music was rising — from 

where ? 
From the great reaching dark, and the night 

and the air — 
And a music that blended so much with the scene. 
That its harmonies flowed forth in dark and in 

green 

44 



Of the far-stretching forests, with rolling chords 

flung 
From the region of mystery, whence they were 

sprung- 
Til] at last it grew calmer and sweeter — so sweet 
That an angel in listening might hear the heart 

beat 
Of a love in its tone, as if losing the sound 
It had lost the weird wail of the darkness, and 

found 
All the quiet of Heaven — where souls being 

free 
Will sing ever — sing always — from mere ecstacy! 

And yet then — and as if with a pitying thought — 
In a cloud of soft melody — back it had brought 
The girl's soul unto earth — with no too harsh a 

tone : 
The melodious minor, the soft wind hath blown 
O'er the face of the flowers — before the white 

snow 
Of the winters will come, and the dear summers 

go— 
And yet 

* * * ♦ * 



45 



It was only a Heavenly scene, 
With the large night hung close, like a mist veil, 

between ; 
And the music was only the heard, clearer part 
Of th' unrealized yearnings within her own 

heart. 
Then the maiden awoke, while the bark-boat 

went on. 
Out of night, out of forest — and into the dawn! 



46 



"Yesterday and To-morrow 
Morn " 

TWO daughters to old Time are 
born — 
Yesterday and To-morrow Morn ; 
And their Mother is To-day. 
(One wears a garment new and gay, 
And the other old and torn.) 

For before the world began, 

And the Earth had dreamt of Man, 

In a region far away. 

Father Time had wed To-day 

In meadows soft where fair brooks ran. 

And she never leaves his side. 
She his old and faithful bride, 
Tho' his hoary locks grow young. 
When the daylight has begun. 
Till the misty even-tide. 

But the years are going fast. 
And the Future and the Past 
Are the wilful children sent. 
When To-day and Time are blent 
In a union great and vast. 

47 



Now one daughter is so fair 
She has moon-light in her hair. 
And her laughter is the trees, 
Swaying gently in the breeze, 
Softly waving here and there! 

But the other is as cold 

As a flower growing old, 

And withered in a damp, dark, shade- 

And yet there is a perfume made 

From such flowers — so they hold. . 



48 



A Feeling 

A 



FEELING is a rain-bow in the sky 
Of life, where many tints and colors vie 
And blend, the whole great arch to 

glorify — 



Emotions of the grand and noble heart. 
Planned in divine and overflowing art. 
Each and yet all perform their separate part. 

They are the tints and colors, many hues 
Of heartfelt joys and griefs, smile-shines, tear- 
dews, 
Of pinks and yellows, crimsons, and bright-blues! 

Nor can God's promise of no flood adorn 
Or cross the firmament for us that mourn, 
Unless it be by colored rain-bows born. 

Nor can a feeling ever be complete. 
Unless all strong emotions join and meet. 
And all their different harmonies make sweet ! 



49 



Would'st Thou Speak to Me, 
Bright Day? 

WOULD'ST thou speak to me, 
bright day?— 
Me of griefs, and me of pains ; 
Me, where all the heart's soft strains 
Sound a discord on the ear ? 
Hark ! do I thy voice still hear ? 
Would'st thou speak to me, bright day ? 

Would'st thou cease thine own wild play 
With the sun-beams, golden bright ; 
With all joy, and all delight, 
With all gayety and glee ? 
Would'st thou stop to speak to me ? 
Would'st thou cease thine own wild play ? 

Ah ! Thou speak'st j thy voice is gay ! 

But I cannot hear it's tone. 

Cease my spirit — cease your moan — 

For one moment silence all : 

Let me listen to that call — 

Ah ! Thou speak'st ; thy voice is gay ! 



50 



Woman 

COULD woman's heart but add onestrain 
Of strength, still all its sweet retain, 
Its pearly streams would surely break 
Into a glorious sun-set lake, 
Where passion-waves would not be free, 
But guarded, kept most tenderly 
To add their force to under-tide. 
And make one feeling grand and wide ! 



5» 



A Secret — A Sonnet 

WHAT is this secret hidden and concealed 
Past all the days that wake and come 
and go — 
Past wayward winds that in the spring-time blow, 
And past the snows in Winter's heart congealed — 
Past sun-rise, and the endless, restless flow 
Of rivers bearing constant, on and on, — 
Past moon-rise and the turbulence of dawn, 
Forever breaking on the world below ? 
Unknown to all the little leaves and blooms, 
Untold to all the giant elms and palms, 
Unpictured to the panting light that swoons 
Thro' woods and forests, reaching to cool 

calms ; 
Undreaming of the quiet of the tombs. 
It has within its breast no hopes — no balms ! 



52 



Fall 

THIS is the time when the old Summer 
bendeth 
Her head to receive a vast crown of red 
gold. 
This is the time when the blossom still sendeth 

A fragrance that proveth it dying or old. 
Ah, the soft rain that the garden still tendeth, 
Now serveth it only with kisses turned 
cold! 

This is the time when the grass on the meadows, 
The leaf on the tree, and the heat in the year, 

Steal far far away, on the tip of the shadows, 
To waver a moment and then disappear. 

Asters that seem like the newly grieved widows 
Will weep their past loves, with a ravishing 
tear. 

This is the time when the colors and blends of 

them 
Gleam ruddy on apples from the morns to 

the eves. 
While wild leaves slow fade to a brown on the 

ends of them, 

53 



And gold groweth great in the heart of the 

sheaves. 
Tired days wane, with the burning red Suns of 

them. 
Where the harvest Moon smiles and her white 

bosom heaves. 



54 



A Mood 



c 



ALM the morning falls from Heaven, 
Dim and over-spread with clouds. 
And the mountain-tops are driven 
Back into their mists of shrouds. 



And sweet rest is on the valleys, 
Weary of their swaying grass j 

For the sun far eastward tarries. 
And the winds no longer pass 

To and fro — but all are sleeping 
Quiet in the soft gray sky; 

And the peaceful Heavens are weeping- 
It would save my heart, could I ! 



5S 



A Sonnet 

WHAT are these mad repinings ? — 
Promises 
Of the full harvests, of the golden grain 
Of passions, ripened in the fields of pain ? 
In vain my mind my heart admonishes — 
The past is dead ; each day astonishes 
The world by rising gloomily or fair. 
The sun sinks fire, yet meager hint is there 
Of what the Morrow's bosom nourishes — 
And tho* the tears may rise and fall as fast 
As tempest waves within a boundless sea. 
Or drop the rains when skies are over-cast, 
Still time is speeding and unchanged by me. 
Then leave the wayward Future and the Past; 
And let me sit and dream awhile — of thee I 



S6 



A Ballad 



T 



HE hour grew late, the guests still sate 
Around the bridal board. 
The wines were gone, the festal song 
Had -died with its last chord. 



II 

The bride beamed fair; behind her chair 

The groom stood bent and still. 
Up rose a sire in war's attire : 
" A story by thy will !" 

Ill 

Loud rang the cry of ecstasy. 

" Pray speak," the fair bride said. 
His face gleamed pale — " I tell a tale 

Of one who now is dead." 

IV 

His eyes stared strange, they went the range 

Of space as sentinel's round. 
But as he broke the trance, and spoke, 

They rested on the ground. 



57 



V 

" Thou wert a child, who laughed and smiled 
With lips as sweet as now. 
Thy family dwelt by the sea, 
On a clifPs projecting brow, 

VI 

" Thy family dwelt by the sea. 

On rocks that reach the wave. 
Thy brothers made sand-wells, and played, 
(There stood thy mother's grave.) 

VII 

•' Three boys there were, and thou the fair : 
One had a patient soul ; 
The next breathed forth, as wind from north, 
With power, sweep and roll, 

VIII 

" And worked by hand, o'er fruits of land, 
With honesty and care. 
Then came another, the last third brother, 
And thou, bright bride, the fair. 



58 



IX 

" Thy next in age, like to a sage, 
Had brain of regal thought. 
In wide book-lore, no man knew more ; 
And vast his heart was wrought. 

X 

" Yet as a tree that restlessly 
Is swayed by every wind, 
Wild fancies took vast hold, and shook 
The quiet of his mind. 

XI 

" He loved thee well ; thou hast heard tell 
His love, by passion's flow 
Of kisses that broke on thee when woke 
A spring bud flaked with snow. 

XII 

" But after the field rich grain did yield ; 
Nor scythe was worked nor plow j 
With the dead year did disappear 

Thy brother — and knowest thou how ? 



59 



XIII 

'' O'er this calm age rash war did rage 
In lands where set of sun 
Warns golden bright approach of night, 
When our day is begun. 

XIV 

" The countries all gave clarion call 
For humanity's stern cause, 
To break the chains of base kings' reigns. 
That fettered feeble laws. 

XV 

I braved the fight, while left and right. 

Close pressed in thick array 
The men fell fast before the blast 

Of shots that came our way. 



XVI 

" The war smoke black made me give back. 
And paused me for the night; 
Then rushing on, in blear of dawn, 
I stumbled in my flight. 



60 



(C 



XVII 

" And fell with wrath. Across my path 
A soldier's body lay. 
He seemed as dead, with bleeding head 
From the victorious day. 

XVIII 

" I pressed the hair, with no soft care, 
From off the forehead high. 
His limbs were stark, his eye gleamed dark. 
I knew that death was nigh. 

XIX 

" I could not brook the searching look 
That from his eye did roll. 
As unto Death. I held my breath ; 
It scorched my very soul. 

XX 

" And back I fell, with piercing yell, 
When lights the fields did lave. 
The features shone — thy brother's own — 
God rest him in his grave! 



6i 



XXI 

" Now giant Time three years sublime 
Had marked by Progress' hand, 
Ere from war stern my heart might turn 
Once more to its own land. 

XXII 

'' Shone ocean wide with moon's fresh pride, 
Ere our ship kissed the quay. 
When summer's bloom thrice decked his 
tomb 
Straight came I unto thee. 

XXIIl 

" But tho' I came and breathed thy name, 
In greeting to thee here, 
I could not bear the grief to stir 
For one thou didst hold dear. 

XXIV 

" Yet dry the tear, for o'er his bier 
Vain Glory placed her rose. 
To jubilee add victory 

Of his — nor weep his woes." 



62 



XXV 

Each head was bent, as right grief went 

To each heart with the tale. 
The look of age on the war-sage 

Grew deep; the bride grew pale. 

XXVI 

While the groom's face had lost the grace 

Of youth and beauty's glow. 
The sage spoke on, in growing dawn, 

The groom's pulse beat but slow. 

XXVII 

He held control, tho', o'er his soul, 

As King o'er subject land. 
And no one knew how his veins grew 

Great on the firm white hand. 

XXVIII. 

The stare of eye was his reply 

Of mourning for the dead, 
Till the sweet bride, close by his side. 

Lifted to him her head. 



63 



XXIX 

The tender grace of her fair face 

Startled the man in him ; 
His conscience woke, his deep voice broke 

On day, then rising dim. 

XXX 

'* Thy brother died. I by his side 
Had watched his dying breath; 
And still far more — I vowed and swore 
That I should be his death. 

XXXI 

" For in my past, and hidden fast 
As secrets e*er can be. 
There lay a sin that entered in 
Became a mystery. 

XXXII 

" As floods that run to Western sun 
Sing not the far East's song. 
So in my breast I held in rest 
The secret of a wrong. 



64 



XXXIII 

" And yet one night, by moon's pale light. 
We drank — both he and I — 
At tavern's round, and there he found 
That secret I put by. 

XXXIV 

" My secret cast into the past 
Was open to his gaze, 
As all the moods of life, like woods. 
Are seen by fierce fire's blaze. 

XXXV 

" And then ere long it grew a wrong 
Upon myself and thee ; 
As one apart he judged the heart 
Full kind, that sinned in me. 

XXXVI 

" But when it came, that thy fair name 
Should wedded be with mine, 
I knew as brother he would discover 
My fault to thee and thine. 



6j 



XXXVII 

" Yet, still I strove, and went to rove 
At far, to rise above 
My thoughts of thee, the agony 
To crave thee for my love. 

XXXVIII 

" And then the war swept the land o'er; 
I fought with desperate might, 
And in the blare of battle air 
I felt my heart grow light. 

XXXIX 

" Far hid from sight, and as in night 
Was all, yes, all but smoke. 
The sun seemed dead, yet rose full red 
When through the line we broke. 

XL 

" Right by my side stood he who died — 
Thy brother in its light. 
White gleamed his face (in hour of grace 
May it for me gleam white) ! 

66 



XLl 

" He stood there still. My heart beat till 
I felt it in my throat ; 
For thou wert mine, if in the line 
I killed him (none should note). 

XLII 

" But then from far, as 'twere a star, 
A blaze fell from the sky. 
The ranks rushed on, and in the dawn 
By another did he die. 

XLIII 

" And so with Fate, tho' oft we wait 
Thro' weary life for peace. 
From trial or dread, that Chance has bred, 
'Tis Chance will bring release. 

XLIV 

" And I fought on, out of the dawn, 
With mine own heart in me ; 
My battle-fire was my desire 
That yearned yet for thee. 



67 



XLV 

" My battle-field I would not yield — 
Not for his life nor mine — 
Was smiles that play full blithefully 
And on thy fair lips shine. 

XLVI 

" My battle throes were eyes that rose — 
Thine eyes that hung above, 
In mirrored art, o'er my rapt heart ; 
My fight was for thy love. 

XL VII 

" And now, fair bride, here by my side. 
Wilt lay thy hand in mine ? 
Forgive the wrong that, cleansed long 
In sorrow, may decline ? '* 

XLVIIl 

The guests sate still, to wait her will, 
To know her answer there. 

The wines were gone, and festal song ; 
The groom bent o'er her chair. 



68 



XLIV 

The tale is old ; the grain is gold 

At peace now by the sea. 
The bride was young; her answer sprung- 

" Yes ! For thou lovedst me ' " 



bg 



The Moon and the World 

A BEAUTIFUL Moon rose proudly one 
night. 
And looked on herself with a pensive 
delight. 
And the white of her skin was as pure and soft, 
As when she lay on the Saviour's loft. 
And she saw from the deep of a pool in a dale. 
Where weird Hghts glisten and waters turn pale. 
The very effect of her loveliness, sent 
Into their struggling and discontent 
And sluggish uprisings. 

And the Moon, 
As she looked on herself, could almost swoon 
From the ideal spirit-like visage seen 
Through the tangled boughs of the forests green. 
And she said to the World : "You have grown old ! 
And your fast excess of rotation has told 
Upon you since you followed the sun 
With a mad extreme when the day's begun. 
And even the springs that pass over your heart 
Have left the cold leaves of the autumn to start 
Under the feet of the winters, and lie 
Dead on the ground where the snows pass by.'* 

70 



The old World stopped, and held her breath, 
And thought on life — and creation — and death ; 
And then she replied with the dark night's moan 
To the beautiful Moon in an undertone: 
" Yes, oh Moon ! but you froze in your rest ; 
While children sleep sweetly upon my breast." 



71 



A Child — A Tale in Rhyme 
I 

THERE was once a little boy's spirit born 
To a world of merriment all forlorn ; 

For the beautiful mother God gave him 
Had a sparkling eye and a conscience dim. 
And when she saw the little red thing 
Lying near to her, without feeling a sting 
Of conscience, she feared least a care 
Should rob her of one golden hair. 
And she frowned on the lace in the richly 

decked room ; 
And the fresh flowers there that were all abloom 
Looked sadly down on the little boy sent 
Into that world of merriment. 



II 



But the little boy grew, and bye and bye 

When a sturdy look came and he stood so high 

He could touch her bed, the mother proved, 

The doctor advised that he be removed. 

So in a nursery kept far apart 

He was given all that could please the heart 

72 



Of a little boy. All kinds of fair 
And beautiful picture books were there, 
And toys and sweets of every kind 
To fascinate a childish mind. 
And, tho' the nurse would often scold, 
'Twas better than the days of old. 

Ill 

But suddenly there came a day 

When the beautiful toys were thrown away. 

And the Mother Goose book and the pictures all 

Of the goblins short and the giants tall 

Had no more fantasy, joy nor dread 

For the little boy, and his curly head 

Lay heavy in his dimpled hand 

With thoughts he could not understand j 

Until from out the dazzling black 

Of blinded eyes a thought came back — 

That, passing by, he oft had seen 

A dark recess behind a screen. 

IV 

And then, at last, he knew not how. 
The screen was pushed aside — and now 
He stood upon a fur-rugged floor, 
Oblivious of screen and door, 

73 



Or who should come, or who should see — 

He stole into the library ! 

At first he did not like the hue 

Of the dark-covered books — so grand and new. 

And dull and strange and piled so high. 

He could not reach them with his eye. 

Until he came to where was placed 

A bookcase filled for childhood's taste. 

V 

Ah, what he read! And all the hours 

Were from November till the flowers 

Began to bloom again, and he 

Was deep in Fairy mystery. 

He knew the tale of every maid 

By some wild witch or wretch waylaid ; 

And then of all the charmed knights 

Who fought and helped them in their plights. 

And so intense was all his store 

Of myths and ancient goblin lore, 

He felt and lived within their age. 

As in his own world lives the sage. 

VI 
And far, and far, in childish dreams 
He went to where the moonlight streams 

74 



Upon young lovers, and a book 
Brings thought into an old man's look ; 
And in his own, own little way 
He pushed the clouds of life away. 
And saw the angels in the sky. 
There are two times before we die 
When we can see far more than men — 
The first is childhood's dreaming, then 
When we grow old. But no one knew 
The strange, weird way in which he grew. 

VII 

But one night late the little boy woke ; 

The bubble force of a dream had broke 

The sleep from his eyes, and a goblin tale 

Shone in them as the moon did pale. 

And his hand went up, and he rubbed his eyes. 

His bed was placed so he looked on the skies, 

And he, gazing, thought the star-beam he saw 

Was a witch's silver hair. Her claw 

Was the great dark tree. And a wee sob came 

For the maid — he could not remember her 

name — 
Who was under the powerful witch's spell. 
And his head no more on the pillow fell. 

75 



VIII 

And the starlight waned not nor died away, 
But grew so bright that he thought the day 
Was coming in at his window. And soon 
The pale, ghost-shivering, awe-striking moon 
Would grow dim ! So he waited and sat as still 
As if he were sleeping full soundly until 
His nurse should wake him. But fairy dreams 

came. 
And he did so wish to remember the name 
Of that poor, witch-tempted, beautiful maid 
Of the fairy tale ! And the book was laid 
'Way, 'way down in the library — while 
He sprang from his bed with a naughty smile. 

IX 

All was dark on the upper stairs, 

And by his wee little cot, unawares, 

He stumbled on the rocking-horse back. 

And clutched madly at its mane for lack 

Of other support, until to this day 

You can see the place where the hair's pulled 

away. 
And yet his purpose still did uphold. 
As one often sees in th' unpolished gold 

76 



Of childhood set a wonderful stone 
Of character, dazzling the eye alone ; 
But down stairs it was very bright, 
And the library, too, was lit that night. 

X 

And all was light in the parlors — all light 
In the windows resting against the night ; 
And the flowers there were as fresh and green 
As the meadows breed them 'neath morning 

sheen. 
And the vases stood tall with their patterns fair, 
And the spirit of dancing was on the air. 
And the great old chairs of the family heart 
Were gone from the salons. In every part 
Naught was to be seen of a family sign 
But women and men and costumes fine, 
While in the centre of all this stood 
The woman who dreaded motherhood. 

XI 

The woman who dreaded motherhood smiled, 

And the deep, rich mass of her long hair piled 

In affected carelessness on her head, 

As she nodded, let loose a ringlet as red 

With a brilliant gold as any flower 

That mellows the fields within summer's hour. 

I..---. 17 



And everyone said that her mouth, like the 

moon, 
Had a mystical curve on the end, and would 

swoon 
Into a laugh with the magical charm 
Of moody midsummer nights, which alarm 
By darkness, and then are with moonlight 

beguiled. 
While the woman who dreaded motherhood 

smiled. 



XII 

But the little boy passed the parlors, too, 

Upon his way to the library, thro' 

Perhaps losing his way, or perhaps by the glare, 

Or perhaps it was only because aware 

Of brilliance and gaiety hid from sight 

Behind the curtains, he felt that night 

A little curiosity — when 

He was harshly told by the butler that " men 

Only sit up." But when, bye and bye. 

He saw a strange lady and started to fly, 

He found himself at the library door. 

His bare feet treading upon the floor. 

78 



XIII 
Had the little boy sailed over distant seas 
In magic ships unto far countries, 
And seen the myriad sights of the world, 
No more of wonderment could be held 
Within the large of his eyes sky shade. 
Than the lights and the music that night had 

made. 
But soon he found by the bookcase old 
The book where the goblin taie was told. 
Then someone came through the door — his 

mother — 
And someone with her — not father — nor 

brother — 
And they stopped, and their voice had a tremu- 
lous tone ; 
For you know, they thought themselves alone. 
But the little boy, buried within his book. 
Had a chance when he heard the train rustle to 

look. 
And then it was, after a moment of fright. 
He thought he would have an adventure that 

night. 
So the little boy came by the corner to peek. 
When he saw something fall on the pink of her 

cheek, 

79 



And then, grownig bolder, he went ail the way 

To the table, as fearless as if it were day. 

But a mouse, or something strange, that he saw 

Made him quickly again withdraw, 

And he waited breathless behind the case 

Till a wicked book fell with a thud from its place. 

XIV 

And then — how is it that born within 

A woman's breast nor sorrow, nor sin. 

Nor petty life, nor selfish thought 

Can kill the motherhood instinct wrought 

By the Creator ? But ever there. 

Sometime or other, its wings will stir. 

And bear the feeling over the soul 

That makes a womanhood great and whole ! 

And how was it that the little boy lay 

On her arm, as he had not for many a day, 

And good night fell from her lips unaware 

To the someone gazing with love at her ? 



XV 

The little boy grew and he went to school. 
And found in his heart that the measured rule 

80 



Of hour and moment and lesson and strife 
(Tho* he hated the work) was the substance 

of life. 
His clever mind grew, as with all little boys, 
To express the usual sorrows and joys — 
But perhaps a little more keenly ; for he 
Had seen as a child more than others could see. 
While the woman who dreaded motherhood 

smiled. 
Now and then, from a true-hearted pride in her 

child. 



8i 



UtU 20 1902 



